


Castiel, Angel of the Hearth

by Dezziebelle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Charlie isn't dead, Gen, Holidays, SPN Holiday Mixtape, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 07:20:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9062137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dezziebelle/pseuds/Dezziebelle
Summary: Castiel learns to bake a pie, and so much more.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is divided up into the movements of the Wintersday 2012 OST movements ([ Listen here! ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ESpAdT2DnX0)). 
> 
> (Disclaimer: I hope I don’t offend anyone with the use of various holidays, as I’ve taken some artistic license with timing of said various holidays.)

**_Movement I; The Great Toymaker – Shortly after Thanksgiving._ **

Festive cheer is practically oozing through the bunker when Sam and Dean walk in from the garage, Impala still ticking as she cools. Dean’s not quite sure how to react to the hallways draped in tinsel and holly as they make their way towards the great table. He’s even less sure how to react to the giant fir monstrosity that stands in the entry hall, dressed in ornaments and wrapped in blinking red and green lights. The lights continue up the staircase to the main door. Dean’s gaze is following the path when he spots Cas, leaning over the rail to perch a star on the top of the tree.

 _The tree topper, Meg was on to something._ Dean has to cover his chuckle with a cough at the mental image of Cas sitting atop the giant fire hazard and ignores the pang of something he doesn’t want to look at too closely when he thinks of the fiery little demon bitch that saved their hides more than he cared to admit.

“Um. Cas…” Sam starts and Dean kicks his shin; the universal sign for _shut the hell up Sammy! God._ “What are you doing?” The overgrown moose just barrels on, turning an epic bitch face towards Dean before looking back up at Cas.

“There was a movie on Netflix that I watched where the family decorated their home for the winter holidays the day after Thanksgiving. Even if you humans get more things wrong with the individual holidays than you get right, it’s still about tradition. Since Thanksgiving was last week, I figured it was the season to decorate, am I wrong?” Castiel’s stoicism would fool anyone other than the Winchesters. Dean’s not dense, he’s pretty sure where this is coming from.

“Cas… You do know that we don’t _have_ to decorate the bunker. We can celebrate our own way.”

“But the family in the movie decorated their home.”

“Sure, for some people I suppose it’s tradition. But is that what you’re doing this for?” Sam’s laying the puppy dog eyes on thick now. The borderline pitying expression makes, Dean swears to… well, not God – pie, sure, pie – Castiel puff up in birdlike righteous indignation. He’d bet if there was a strike of lightning they’d see those broken wings tucked tight to his back. “Cas, we’ll go all out on Christmas, or Hanukkah, or Yule, or whatever if that’s what you want to do.”

“Of course it is, Sam. I’m just following human traditions.” And Castiel turns, walks down the stairs, and to his bedroom.

“I think you insulted him, Sam.”

“Shut up.”

**_Movement II; The Tale of Tixx and Toxx -- Saturnalia_ **

It’s just past the first real cold snap of the season the next time the boys return to the bunker and find fire alarms blaring from smoke originating from the general direction of the kitchen. Dean’s first to bolt in guns blazing, Sam close on his heels, until they slide to a stop in the kitchen.

“Um, Cas?” Dean carefully asks, tucking his gun in the waistband of his worn jeans. “Why is there smoking pots in the sink?”

The usually stoic angel looks practically smite-y sitting in the kitchen, pouting as he crosses his arms across his chest and glares daggers at the oven. “Because I followed the instructions but got vastly different results.”

Dean can’t fight the small smile at Cas’ dilemma. “What were you trying to make?”

“Pie.”

Pie. Pie! “You… burned pie? What happened?”

“I made the filling on the oven first, but got distracted by fetching the sugar cookies from the oven. They weren’t quite ready so I put them back into the oven and noticed the filling had burnt to the bottom of the pan. I started over and burnt the cookies. When I finished the filling and put the pie in the oven, it bubbled over, then the pie crust itself burned before I noticed the filling had burnt.”

Dean’s pretty sure he’s never heard Castiel say so much at one time. The angel’s quota for the month had to be over by at least double. If Sam’s expression mirrors his own, he’s pretty sure he looks dumbfounded.

“I’ll teach you how to make pie, Cas,” Dean’s certain just as he opens his mouth and Cas’ eyes light up that he’s made a mistake.

**_Movement III; Wintersday in Lions Arch, Bell Choir Medley, Divinity’s Reach One Man Band, Toypocalypse Medley – Mid December_ **

Dean was right. Teaching an Angel of the Lord was a lot harder than one first expects. They’re warriors of God and used to taking orders, but Dean never realized just how many small steps were embedded in the larger, vaguer steps that he’s used to describing and expecting the recipient to understand. It’s been an exercise in patience while he describes in detail each step to making staple winter holiday foods.

While Cas is far older than he is, Cas has never had need of human food before. Dean’s not sure that Cas even _needs_ food, he just wants to be more human. And for some reason, that focus has been squarely set on making a successful holiday feast. And most importantly, or perhaps it’s Dean projecting, the pie. Apple, cherry, pecan – Cas has tried them all.  Teaching the angel had also turned Castiel into a baking and cooking fiend. When they weren’t on a case – which, frankly, was more often than not right now – Castiel was in the kitchen tinkering with ingredients.

***

The first day of some obscure pagan holiday Dean has no interest in listening to Sam rattle information about rolls around and there’s… nothing.  Cas isn’t in the kitchen. He isn’t in the bunker even.

“Have you seen Cas?” Sam asks, sliding into a chair across from Dean at the war table, cup of coffee steaming in hand.

“No, I was about to ask if you have.” Dean worries at his bottom lip, his thumb nail, fidgets with the books they’re delving into for a possible case out of a little town on the west coast with a serious case of woodland sprite gone rouge.

“Have you tried praying to him?”

“If he’s here, he doesn’t want to be here Sammy.” Dean snaps but can’t help but wonder if Cas would even have his ears on.

“Okay, okay.” And Sam shuts up, leaning back to return to research.

***

"Cas, if you have your ears on... Where are you, man?" Dean's sitting on his bed, head in hands and elbows on knees as he whispers out a near-silent plea to the angel, if only to not alert his nosy little brother to his inner turmoil. "Why did you just up and disappear?" The _why did you leave me?_ goes unsaid.

***

Hours pass with no Cas in the kitchen, research only given the bare minimum of effort and Dean’s actually, honestly, worried. The angel’s gone off without a word before, but like this? Cas never just up and disappeared like this; especially now that his wings were broken and he couldn’t take off at a moment’s notice.

The sound of the front door opening jars Dean from his musing and seems to jolt Sam from dozing. Dean can’t help the little snort of amusement as he stands and peers up at the doorway.

“What’s up bitches!” Wasn’t what he was expecting, but when did things ever go the way Dean expects? He takes off at a sprint to collide with Charlie as she trots down the stairs, squeezing the life out of her in a massive bear hug.

“Charlie!” Sam calls, jogging over to greet her.

“Boys,” she grins, then falters. “Where’s Cas?”

Dean shrugs and the look Charlie gives him can only be described as pitying. Dean lets her go, backing up to let his overgrown brother a chance to hug the vivacious redhead. “So, tell me everything that’s been going on in Winchesterland!”

Dean can’t love the woman more than right this moment with her change of topic.

***

“So, Cas isn’t here?” Charlie asks, settling into the couch beside Dean. “And you’re not turning over every rock to find him, why?”

“He’d be here if he wanted to be.” Dean winces at the unadulterated _hurt_ that laced his words he couldn’t quite hide.

“Dean, you know that’s not…”

“Charlie, please.” And like the queen she is, Charlie lets it drop and starts the DVD player. 

**_Movement IV; Wintersday in Tyria – The Solstice/Modern Saturnalia_ **

After a week of no word from the angel, he turns up on the longest night of the year with pie in hand and a small, secretive smile. “Hello, Dean.”

“Cas?” Dean’s abso-fucking-lutely sure that his voice didn’t just waver. “I, uh, where’ve you been?” They’re standing in the doorway, cold wind blowing snow into the warmth of the bunker. The sun’s long since set.

“A few places. I’ve begun to understand human tradition a little better. As I understand it now, you’re supposed to make memories with those you care most for.” Dean’s mouth most definitely didn’t dry at Castiel’s words.

“You taught me how to make traditional festive food, but I wanted to see other cultures for myself. I realized halfway through that I missed the festivities with you and Sam, so I came back but couldn’t bring myself to come right to the bunker.”

“why… not?” Dean carefully asks, akin to not wanting to startle an animal.

Castiel shrugs, rubbing his face – something Cas had picked up from him, probably – and sighing. “I felt guilty for leaving without telling you, even if it was to bring some of the other traditions to our own celebration. I was at the bar,” Dean interrupts Castiel with a quiet snort, “when a fellow patron told me that I should return and spend Christmas with those that matter most to me.”

It takes Dean a moment to really comprehend what Castiel said, then flushes a soft pink and coughs quietly. “Uh, well, buddy I’m glad you’re home.”

“Home. Yes. We’re home.” And Castiel leaves to the kitchen.

Dean’s not surprised.

***

Dean set down the cooling pie among the roasted bird and other holiday dinner staples Cas had just laid on the war table. “Merry Christmas, Cas,” Dean whispers as he sits next to the angel, across from Sam and Charlie.

“Happy Yule, Dean,” comes Cas’ reply as they settle in to eat and be merry.

_End._

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays and thanks for reading my SPN Holiday Mixtape fic! My original idea was to set this fic as an alternate universe fic where Dean and Cas play Guild Wars, which I may someday do, but couldn’t hammer out the details. I don’t know where this came from. I had an idea with the emotions that the various movements from the Wintersday 2012 OST evoked (and very little free time to write), but it wasn’t until I had a plot bunny of Cas in the kitchen and Dean being typically emotionally unavailable that I really started placing this fic to the music.
> 
>  
> 
> [Come say hi on my Tumblr!](http://dezziebelle.tumblr.com/)


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